My Best Friend
by and it feels like finally
Summary: "Albus is my best friend. From the first of September 6 years ago, we just.. Clicked. So with one fleeting look into his emerald eyes, I knew something was wrong."
1. Sapphire

_**A/N - Hi! This is written for Princess Moony's (Princess PomPom on this site) 'Jemstone Challenge' on the HPFF forums. My character was Albus Severus, and my gemstone was a sapphire, which we had to make significant in the story. I chose to make 'sapphire' a character, and this is told from her POV. It might be kinda confusing, and sorry this isn't very good. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, and please review! =) x**_

_**A/N 2 - I might add another chapter onto this, just a short one from Albus' POV, what do you think? Please tell me in a review! =)**_

Chapter 1 – Sapphire

Albus is my best friend.

From the moment on the first of September 6 years ago, when I stumbled into his compartment, and sat myself down between him and Scorpius Malfoy, we just… Clicked. So with one fleeting look into is emerald eyes, I knew something was wrong.

Piercing screams of First Years fill the great hall, as a thunderous tremor ripples through the ground. The door bursts open, and a dozen cloaked figures make their way inside, eyes dancing with malicious glee. Only slightly parting his lips, the man in the middle, their leader, perhaps, muttered an unintelligible word, wand pointed directly at me.

Al seemed to figure it out before I did.

Instinctively, he threw himself sideways, attempting to shield me from the jet of red light that was now sprinting ferociously towards me.

Then the world seemed to go in slow motion. Al coming into view in front of me, pure terror etched upon his face, trying to protect me, save me. The red light running, running a race vital for it to win. Slipping through Albus' thin fingers: reaching its target.

Pain. Blinding pain I cannot even begin to describe. The world fading around me. Darkness.

* * *

><p>I awake and everything's changed.<p>

With every breath pain bursts from my chest and spreads throughout my body, and whenever I attempt to move, I fail. I can't even open my eyes. As a large, warm hand with thin fingers encases my own, I hear fain murmurs of people talking, people beyond my reach.

I think of that touch on my hand, that touch that seems so familiar, so _right_, yet I have only felt it once before. But who it is, I don't know. And just as a candle lights the dark night with a flickering flame, a picture, a memory, sparks into my head.

It was before the practical potions owl, and I was as nervous as I could possibly be. When I left school, I wanted to be a healer at St. Mungo's, so passing this exam was crucial. Sensing my nerves, he held my hand as we waited for our names to be called, and gave it a reassuring squeeze as he left, telling me that I'd be okay. But who was he? The tall, skinny boy with the emerald eyes and jet black hair?

As I desperately try to remember, another memory springs to mind.

Inside a window of a crooked wooden house, barely managing to hold itself up, are two faces, both topped with hair as dark as the midnight sky, and eyes as bright as jewels. Holding up a small bottle labelled 'Blue hair dye', I ask the boy "What's this do?"

He takes it in his hand, that familiar hand, laughing, and responds "Dyes your hair blue of course! Really, Sapphire, what else would it be for?"

Sapphire? Is that my name? There's no time to wonder, however, as the memory continues. "Shall we try it out?" I ask, excitement evident in my voice.

The boy laughs again, "On you, yeah!"

"Chivalrous as ever, your Dad would be so proud."

He simply pours the stuff on my head as a reply.

So the now blue haired girl and the black haired boy run up the stairs to the bathroom, where we try to rinse it out.

"Saph, it won't come out, where did you find this thing?"

Easily, I replied, "In the box labelled 'DO NOT TOUCH', where else?"

Both 13 year olds laugh whilst a snowflake dances down past the window as the memory fades into another:

It's the boy again, saying I should just _ask _Professor Longbottom to change my hair back for me, which I respond with, "You really think that would work on a Weasley product? Besides, I kind of like it, it matches my eyes."

The boy wears a look of annoyance, but a smile plays at the corner of his lips, "But you JUST said it clashed with your robes!"

"I didn't say that was a bad thing though did I?"

He just shakes his head as he runs down the hill, shouting behind him: "Come on! I'll race you down to Hagrid's!" And, of course, I race after him, blue hair and Gryffindor robes flying out behind me.

Then the memory fades, yet one question still plagues me: who was the boy with the jet black hair and emerald eyes, the one who acted like my best friend?

* * *

><p>I don't know how long my mind has been asleep for, but when I awake I can still fell that hand upon my own. But however much I try, I can't even move one finger, open one eye.<p>

Once again, another memory appears before me.

"And Albus Potter has caught the snitch! 150 points to Gryffindor!" The loud voice of Lewis Jordan dominates the quidditch pitch, along with disappointed groans from Slytherins, and loud cheers from every other student. Still in mid-air, I dive downwards, dismount my broomstick, and run towards a, now older, boy with round glasses concealing emerald eyes. My arms envelope this boy in a hug whilst jumping up and down in excitement at the small winged ball I see in his hand, and the large silver cup in the other. He raises the cup above his head as more players and spectators rush down onto the pitch to celebrate. Celebrate what, I don't know, but I do remember a party that lasted all night in a scarlet room at the top of one of the castle's many towers, the silver cup in a table at the centre.

Before I have time to question what I saw, the memory fades into another.

Approximately 6 years younger than before, the skinny, messy-haired boy from earlier could be seen through the small window of a train compartment, accompanied by a girl with bushy dark red hair, and a pale boy topped with sleek white-blonde locks. I open the compartment door and sit down between these two boys, and start making conversation. This goes on for a while, and we talk about everything, from families to quidditch teams to favourite sweets. I learn that his name is Albus Potter, the boy who features in all my memories, and just like his face in my visions, the name seems so familiar, and there's a feeling that I should've known it all along. This feeling I cannot get rid of, and I wonder why I feel so much better now that I know who he is.

But there's no time to wonder; I can't seem to summon up the energy to even try. And as the pain circulating my body is greater still, I know that I will not last much longer.

His hand is still gripping mine, even tighter than before, as if he is trying to hold on to me, not let me go. In spite of this I can't help but feel that it's ending.

Yet another memory sparks into my mind, but this time it's just a picture. A single picture, the last thing that makes me want to hold on, that and his hand, Albus' hand, holding so tightly onto my own.

I see a panic-stricken emerald eye, shining with both tears and terror. I see a blue haired girl with a burst of red light hitting her chest reflected in its pupil. And then I just see darkness.

Darkness. Something that seems to feature quite prominently in my mind of late. But this feels different: like it's going on and on forever, with no intention to possibly stop. Like a tunnel where you just can't see the light at the end.

So with one last memory of that emerald eye, one last attempt of trying to preserve the feeling of his touch on my hand, I lose every subconscious thought I had, and that torturing pain just- fades away…


	2. Albus

**_A/N - hi! :) this is the second chapter of this, so i hope you enjoy it and please review! :) x_**

Chapter 2 - Albus

Sapphire is- was my best friend.

From the moment on the first of September 6 years ago, when she stumbled into my compartment, and sat herself down between me and Scorpius Malfoy, we just… Clicked. So when I heard the faint creak of a wooden door, soft footsteps on stone floor, and hushed whispers coming from the entrance hall, I knew something was wrong. And with one look into her deep blue eyes, I knew that she did too.

But after that it all happened so quickly.

First years screamed as the ground shook and the door burst open. 12 figures, cloaked figures that I somehow recognised but don't know why entered, and I suddenly got a splitting headache and I felt someone enter my brain. A legilimens. By that time it was clear that they had come for me. And I was thinking, desperately pleading that they wouldn't hurt her, that nothing bad would happen, but only then did I realise my mistake.

The man in the middle stared at her, and a slight movement of his lips was all I needed to know that she was in danger. As I saw a jet of red light shooting out of his wand I instinctively flung myself sideways, trying to shield her from the curse, and let it hit me instead. But it missed. It missed and went right through the gaps between my fingers and hit her instead. And the pain I saw in her eyes. It almost killed me.

Then her eyes closed and I didn't know what to do because she'd just collapsed on the floor and the teachers were all trying to stay calm so they could file the rest of the school back to their common rooms. They then decided that that job was better suited to the prefects so rushed over and conjured up a stretcher to take her away. I didn't want them to. I couldn't bear it, to see her leave. Screaming inside but just frozen to the spot and uncontrollably sobbing on the floor of the Great Hall, I didn't move until Neville lead me up into McGonagall's office, trying to reassure me that she would be alright. I knew he was wrong though. I didn't want to think it, but I knew deep down. I knew she wasn't going to survive it. At that moment I was too hysterical to notice the tear tracks running down his face though, and I think now that he was mainly trying to kid himself into believing it. Because he didn't want to lose his favourite student almost as much as I didn't want to lose my best friend.

I stayed in the office for a while, but at the time it seemed like forever. When Neville left he told me to relax, but I don't know why, because he must have known that I couldn't, not when she wasn't here with me. At that moment my Dad quietly came into the office, and I gave him a quick, pleading look. He nodded in response, and I ran down to the hospital wing to see her. It hadn't been that long, probably only a matter of hours, so it was no surprise really that she wasn't any better. I hoped though, I hoped more than anything that she was sitting up in her bed with that bright smile on her face. But all I can do is sit down by her bed and hold her hand, keep it locked in mine.

It was silent in the hospital wing, most of the time. Only faint footsteps and the occasional whisper from Madame Pomfrey's office could be heard, and even though the curtains draped around the bed muffled the noise, I think they were trying to be quiet. The whole school knows what happened, after all. They were there, they saw it. Dad came in every so often to see how I'm doing, and when he first arrived, about half an hour after he saw me previously, he just looked at me sitting there, holding her hand. A long, reminiscent stare. I reminded him of someone, I guess. He understood that I wouldn't leave, wouldn't go anywhere or do anything except sit here and wait for her to wake up. Madame Pomfrey came in a lot too, to check up on her and do various medical things. She always left with a defeated sigh though, like whatever she was trying to do wasn't working. And I couldn't stand it. Because Sapphire had to get better, she had to. If she didn't, I didn't know what I'd do.

I wanted to ask questions as I sat there, ask whether she was going to get better, how long she would stay like this. I didn't though, because I was scared. Scared that my fears would come true, my nightmares of staring at her coffin and kneeling beside her grave would be real. That I'd have to endure such pain.

What would have happened though, if I did save her? If it was me the curse hit and I was the one lying here in this bed, slowly dying. Would she be sitting here holding my hand? Would the tears never stop falling from her eyes and would she feel like she was just about to break down but she knew that she couldn't because she didn't want me to feel like I was hurting her? Would she be slowly dying inside? Would she be regretting every single moment that she could have told me how she felt? Was there even any feeling there?

Because I wouldn't be able to look at her dead body without wishing I'd told her. Three words. Would it really have been that hard? I had plenty of opportunity, so much time I could have just said it to her. And I couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear her not knowing. But she started to hold onto my hand, actually wrap her tiny fingers around my own. Although most people would think that means she was getting better, I knew she was just trying to hold on. And the only reason she was gripping my hand harder was because she was falling faster.

The effort it seemed to have taken her though, it seemed like it was too much. Too much for her to take. And I was holding on so tightly I didn't realise her hand had gone slack again, that I could no longer hear her slow breathing.

I didn't register it properly at first, I refused to believe it. But Madam Pomfrey rushed in, and after waving her wand a couple of times just gave me a pitying look, a look that said she was sorry. I wanted to scream at her, scream at her asking if there was anything else she could do. But I couldn't, I was just sitting there crying again. My whole face was wet from tears when some more people arrived to take her away, and I just tried to hold on, but I felt a hand prise mine away from hers, and then arms wrap me in a hug. It was just like before, when she was being taken away, but then I knew I was going to see her again, I was sure of it. This time though, I knew that she was going away forever.

* * *

><p>Now, 2 weeks later, I'm sitting in a church in black dress robes, and she is concealed inside a wooden box, being taken away once more. I'm too sad to notice the tears rolling down my face, and I'm half hoping that this is all just a dream.<p>

In no way did I envision the first time I was dressed nicely in a church to be like this. I didn't imagine her in a wooden coffin draped in white flowers, eyes tight shut. I imagined her to be walking down the aisle towards me in a white dress, her blue eyes sparkling with joy.

But now I'm outside by her gravestone, and everybody else has ventured inside. I wish she was here with me, like when I visited Uncle Fred, and she was here right beside me crying as well, her blue hair blowing over her face because of the wind.

Before I leave, I whisper one thing, "I love you, Sapphire," even though I know she can't hear me

Because she's no longer here, although I never thought we'd be apart. But she'll always be my best friend.


End file.
